Chapter 2

For Thanksgiving break, I went with Jackson to his family's estate in Fairweather, Hartswell.

This was my third trip. The first time, sophomore spring, I was so nervous I couldn't sleep. The second time, last Thanksgiving, his mom, Millicent, corrected me for using the wrong salad fork.

This year, I decided to get it right. Three days before we left, I started the cranberry sauce exactly the way Millicent's family recipe said.

Fresh cranberries, real Greenpeak maple syrup, grated orange zest, and just a pinch of cinnamon. I followed every step and even used the old copper pot she told me to use.

I packed the finished sauce in a Mason jar, tucked it into a cooler bag, and carried it carefully to the car.

"You actually made it?" Jackson glanced at the bag. "Mom was probably just being nice. You know how she is."

"But she gave me the recipe."

"That's how she operates, Chloe," he sighed and started the engine. "Don't overthink it."

The whole drive, I kept turning those words over in my head, what counted as overthinking and what was just right.

We pulled up in the afternoon. The big white colonial house glowed in the sunset. Jackson's dad, Sterling Carter, stood on the porch in a cashmere sweater and khakis.

"Jackson!" He strode over and pulled his son into a hug. Then he looked at me. "Chloe. Welcome."

Polite. Distant. Same as always.

We had barely stepped inside when the doorbell rang.

"It must be Hailey!" Millicent called out and practically ran to the door.

Hailey arrived in a cream cashmere dress that matched the house perfectly. She carried a FreshMart bag.

"Sorry, I'm late!" she said with a bright smile. "My Tesla had a small issue on Interstate 95, but I made it!"

She pulled out a fancy wrapped jar. "This is our Vanderbilt family cranberry sauce. I heard you wanted to try something new this year, so I brought ours."

Millicent's eyes lit up as she took it. "Sweetheart, how thoughtful! I knew the Vanderbilt girls understood real quality."

I stood in the corner of the living room, still holding my cooler bag.

Jackson walked over, looked at my bag, then at Hailey's, and whispered, "Maybe keep yours for tomorrow?"

At dinner, Millicent set Hailey's sauce right in the middle of the table.

"This is what Thanksgiving should taste like," she said after one bite and nodded. "The real North Marches tradition."

Hailey added casually, "Actually, the best cranberries this time of year come from The Hook. I drive up to the bogs myself every fall."

She turned to me with a sweet smile. "Chloe, did you use frozen ones? I know it's tough to find fresh in Crestmont."

I tightened my fingers around my napkin under the table.

"Fresh," I said evenly. "I went to the Oakhaven Public Market last week."

"Oh," Hailey's smile widened. "Then it must be the cooking technique. These family recipes really need to be learned from childhood."

My cranberry sauce stayed sealed in the cooler bag all night.

Later, back in the guest room, Jackson acted as if nothing had happened.

"My mom really likes Hailey," he said. "She grew up in this world. She knows the rules."

"So I don't?"

"I didn't say that," he answered, rubbing his forehead, tired. "You just need time to adjust. It's not your fault. We come from different worlds."

I looked out at the dark Fairweather sky and finally understood.

In Jackson's eyes, I would always be the girl who had to "adjust."

And Hailey would always belong.